10 YEAR REFLECTION

Parent loss is so complex. They are half the team that raised you. How do you escape grief when your loss is literally woven into the fabric of why you are on this earth? My dad has influenced the values I hold close to my heart, he is part of my history, bits of my personality, my very appearance, and things that I love. It’s all around me. He is all around me. In yet, he is not. 

You have a new identity now. Your not- so-fancy new title becomes “fatherless” and your mother now becomes a “widow”. Your whole family dynamic changes. We get older, and try and build a big beautiful life, and they remain frozen in time. You look at all the same pictures, and you don’t get to experience new things with them. The landscape of your life has so drastically changed that you start to wonder if you imagined them here. 

The term that really made this milestone start to carry weight was when I became a mom of two. That term “mom of two”. For some reason it gave me pause. It’s just a reminder that I have lived so much life without him and that second child puts me further down this path. The after him path. Like if he were to come down from heaven he would say “holy crap Nic! You’re a mom of two now?!” I know that’s not how it works but grief does wild things to the mind. 

And the word that resonates with me lately is tragic. 

I think it’s tragic that my dad doesn’t get to enjoy these moments in my life. I always felt robbed of that but I also feel he was robbed too. Because if there is any man that would have enjoyed being a grandfather, it would have been him. He doesn’t get to experience the joy of his grandson running full speed into his arms. He doesn’t get to experience holding his granddaughter for the first time and notice that she has his nose and possibly his eyes too. I think when a parent dies young and doesn’t get to enjoy the fruits of their labor, that’s tragic. I think any life cut short is truly tragic of course. 

So how do you move through that? 

You dig your heels in every single day. Fill your life with things that will help you and not hurt you. Surround yourself with people who will help you and nurture you. Go on and live your big beautiful life. 

But the real healing has to come from you. I used to wish someone would just come and take this grief away, but no such person appeared. I had to do it. I’m thankful I was able to do the hard work and better myself. Loss will test you in ways that nothing else can. Will it be messy? Absolutely! Mine sure was. It still is at times. Did I cry while writing this? You bet I did. I don’t consider myself healed; this will be a lifelong experience. 

I’m so glad I leaned into these feelings and stopped trying to escape them. It was the best thing I could have ever done. My mom was my greatest teacher in this regard, so I hope to one day encourage someone else. FEEL your FEELINGS! 

But all of this does take time. So give yourself plenty of grace and patience.

People love to talk about time in regards to grief. Time does not heal grief; it simply changes it. The lens changes. At first, it’s like you have a front row seat, and you are right up close. If grief was up at bat, then you were the catcher. You were so close, that the dirt just kept getting kicked up at you day in and day out. And sometimes, okay a lot of times, you get smacked in the face by a foul ball. It wasn’t pretty. 

But ten years later? The lens has widened and now I am standing way up in the nosebleeds. Everything is zoomed out and I can see the whole picture now. You only get that view with time. That’s all time does. You can look down at that catcher and remember what that was like, you can tap into those memories with ease. You can still feel that anger, that denial, that despair. Time is not linear, and neither is our healing journey. But your place is way up high now. And what’s up in those stands with you? All the lessons you’ve learned. All the wisdom you’ve gained. 

There is a beautiful line in the book The Fatherless Daughters Project that feels very reflective on the season of grief I am in – “perhaps you have held tightly to the identity of being fatherless, and you are ready to shed that piece of how you present yourself to the world. You decide to lead with what you have gained in your life, rather than what you have lost.”

It’s easy to hold tightly to all that we’ve lost because it becomes a part of you. But I have learned how to carry this grief along with me and make this unwanted guest a part of my life. I can smile in places that used to bring me to my knees. So it’s time to change the narrative a little bit. 

I really am ready to lead with what I have gained and learned. It’s time to stop shouting from the rooftops about all that I have lost. I am actually looking forward to stepping into this new season of grief. I certainly never thought I’d say that! But here I am. 

10 years, dad. This is big. My goodness. What I wouldn’t give for one more day.

You are missed. You are loved. You are adored. And your memory will live on in our hearts and in the minds of my children.